Grade 7, Day one. After school, my younger siblings and I grab a snack and head to the basement excited to share our stories of our first day.
I tell them about band class and start talking about the teacher, exclaiming,
“Oh it was funny, Ms. Rhodes was all–“
–and then a demon flies into my throat and I commence hacking up a lung.
COUGH COUGH CHOKE COUGH
COUGH COUGH HACK HACK CHOKE COUGH COUGH!
COUGH COUGH COUGHITY COUGH COUGH COUGH!!!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!
After a few thousand years of this, I start to panic while Brook and Brady sit there munching their snack, bored, waiting for me to finish my story; still convinced that I’m quoting my teacher.
COUGH HAAAAACK!!!! CHOKE COUGH!
My face flushes red as tears flood my eyes. My lungs have flipped inside out and have begun puking oxygen. My siblings are watching me die and I can’t catch a breath enough to tell them goodbye.
Finally I convince my wind pipe to spare my life, calm down and continue my story.
COUGH COUGH COUGH Cough cough…cough. cough……..breathe.
Me: “Anyway, she was all–“
Them: “–Wait! Your teacher wasn’t coughing? Haha! That was YOU? I thought– Haha, I thought–…Hahaha!”
Yes, yes I know.